


freaks

by saforoh



Series: who is dream? [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Clay | Dream Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Immortality, Immortals, Pain, Sad Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Suffering, The Old Guard AU, Torture, lol dreams gonna suffer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:29:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28446168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saforoh/pseuds/saforoh
Summary: Memories aren’t dissimilar to spiderwebs, spindly little creations that spin off into different directions and always leading back to a central point. You could try your best to rid yourselves of memories but it was pointless, being trapped in the endless loop of living and unliving.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Darryl Noveschosch, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: who is dream? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2174130
Comments: 2
Kudos: 90





	freaks

**Author's Note:**

> \- if any of the people in this fic are uncomfortable with this, feel free to leave a comment so i may edit/take this down  
> \- based off of the old guard (2020)  
> \- has depictions of violence and torture, both physical and psychological  
> \- also this was supposed to be the first chapter for a long story but idk maybe ill continue it, it can stay as a oneshot for now <3

In the beginning it was just Dream and Sapnap. No one else. Then they met George and Bad and Ant and so many more people. The moment Dream was placed in power of the kingdom was when everything went downhill. 

Dream didn’t like talking about his past, which was to be expected since a large number of people preferred not to focus on the past and rather on the present. The issue was that Sapnap, his oldest friend, barely knew anything about Dream, other than what he liked and that he used to have a family. But something happened to that family. Dream would always have a sad little smile when talking about them and would always tense up. Whenever the topic of old memories would come up in conversation with some of Dream’s newer friends, you could count on Sapnap, George, Bad, or Ant change the topic or leave the conversation altogether. They were like five peas in a pod. 

It was practically Dream’s destiny to be named “Admin” of the kingdom. He was brilliant and extremely skilled, if not impulsive. He was a leader, and that made people trust him even though he stayed as a nameless, pastless, omnipresent figure. No one knew how old he was, where he was born, how he learned what he does, or anything like that. 

For the first few years, it was fine. The kingdom flourished as Dream and a close group of advisors and guards would travel to neighboring kingdoms and sign treaties with them, ending wars and incorporating them into Essempee, which became a hub of community and diversity as people came there to sell their goods, make a new life, or study from the best schools. As the population of the central kingdom, factions were created with individual governments that were expected to rule people of said faction. 

Then Tommy happened. 

Tommy and Wilbur, one of his older brothers, decided it was a good idea to start a drug van and jokingly create a new nation. After a while it stopped being a joke. They realized how little the grand government supported them and how little Dream was doing to provide for the people of the surrounding nations. They planned and plotted and gathered a group of trustworthy allies,including Wilbur’s son Fundy and their good friends Tubbo, Eret, Niki, and Jack. 

Everything snowballed, leading to a civil war that ended with Dream taking one of Tommy’s lives and his two discs and a tentative treaty with L’Manberg. 

Then the two pet wars occured, where Sapnap murders and loses the pets. Dream protected him then. During every step of his reign, he has protected them, always appearing whenever a threat was uttered against them. Sometimes Sapnap wondered why Dream continued to protect him from the arrows of Fundy’s crossbow or from the slashes of Niki’s corded whip.  _ Because you’re my friend _ , Dream would laugh. No matter how awful he would feel, whenever Sapnap would think of Dream’s response to his worries and concerns, he would feel marginally better. It was nice to hear that amidst the bloodshed and arguments, his friend would always be at his side. 

When Ranboo was invited to the kingdom, Tommy decided it was a good idea to burn down George’s villa. 

“Relax, Ranboo, George won’t know it was us. Besides, we’re just here to take a couple of items,” Tommy snickered as he dug through George’s chests, looking for any items of value. He takes out a bag full of diamonds. 

Ranboo was still nervous. After all, it was his first day in this new kingdom and he wanted a fresh start, but not like this. But he should be fine, right? Tommy was trustworthy, “Tommy Trustee” he called himself. He pushed away his anxieties and shrugged, looking through the chests on the other side of the living space. It never truly left his head. 

Tommy took out a flint and steel. “Hey Ranboo,” Tommy grinned, holding it out. “How do you feel about a little bit of arson?”

He hesitantly grabs it. “Lighting stuff on fire isn’t on the top of my list of favorite things to do but I always love committing crimes.” Ranboo strikes it against the corner of one of the many paintings hanging on the wall, watching the flame slowly spread up the painted woman and outward onto the spruce walls. 

“Uh… Tommy? I think that the fire is spreading too fast… A LITTLE BIT TOO FAST!” Ranboo yelped, turning to see Tommy try to put out the fire while still holding the sack of diamonds. 

“Ah, shit. Best we get out of here while we still can. Unrelated to the current issue at hand but do you know how to make arson look like an accident?” 

Needless to say, Dream found out what happened to the mushroom cottage that George had built while avoiding the festival. He still remembers how happy George was, with his bright pink cheeks standing out against his pale skin and the crown resting unsteadily on his hair.  _ Dream, look. I made a house for you, me, and Sapnap. Just the three of us. Whenever this war ends, we can run away for a little while. _

He hardly had to skew the trial, even though Tubbo was the judge. All of the evidence pointed to Tommy, and especially with the witness testimonies from Callahan and Alyssa who said they saw him run in the area of the cottage. The first step was complete. Tommy was officially removed from the position of vice president of L’Manberg. But it wasn't enough so he provided Tubbo and Tommy with an ultimatum. 

He appeared in Tubbo’s office shortly after the trial, leaning against the bookshelves and praying that Tubbo didn’t suddenly gain the ability to see under his mask. 

“Exile or L’Manberg, Tubbo. It’s your choice. I would assume that since you are the President of L’Manberg that you would make the best possible decision for your people and your land. Really. You know which decision I would choose if I were in your shoes.” Dream smiled beneath the pristine mask, knowing he’s cornered Tubbo. There really is only one decision he can make, and Tommy’s already attracted plenty of ridicule from the citizens of L’Manberg. 

Tubbo clenches his fists beneath the table as he avoided looking at Dream. He slowly stood up, eyes never leaving the empty seat in front of him. 

“I’ll make the announcement for Tommy’s exile tomorrow morning.” 

Dream clapped his hands, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He didn’t enjoy thinking about his backup plan too much in case his persuasion failed. 

“Then I’ll begin removing the walls after the announcement.” He turned and began to leave, but as he neared the doorway he stopped. 

“Oh, and Tubbo?” 

Tubbo looked up, unclenching his fists and wiping his hands on his pressed black pants. “What.” 

“Make sure you make the announcement in the market square or some other crowded setting. We want to make sure that the people hear of this.” 

Later, on one of the many cloudless nights, Dream took a stroll down the Prime Path. It was better for him to clear his thoughts at night, where all you can hear is the light fizzing of lanterns, the wind, and the mobs hissing and moving about in the far distance. As he began walking to the castle, he stopped. Sapnap and George were walking out along the path too, each carrying a backpack and a large storage chest. 

Dream connected the dots as he began walking up to them. 

“You’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question.

The two of them turned to look at each other. They hadn’t expected Dream to be outside at 2 in the morning, much less completely armed in netherite. 

“Yes, we are. And you’re not stopping us.” Sapnap said as he began walking around Dream.

Dream’s breaths grew faster and faster.  _ Stay calm. _ “Can I ask why or were both of you just going to abandon me in the middle of the night,” Dream forced out, trying to steady his breath and tensing his shoulders. 

George scoffed. The audacity of Dream to ask them this. “The real question should be why we should stay, you literally dethroned me days ago,” 

“That doesn’t mean you should leave.”

“There’s nothing keeping us here.” 

Dream turned his blank face onto them.  _ How dare they. _

“What about me?” 

Both of the travellers stopped walking. “Ever since you’ve been granted the title of Admin, you’ve been power hungry and desperate for control over everyone.” 

“No. NO. Guys, please. George, I took away the crown because you need to be safe. We’re about to enter another war. You’re one of the most important people in my life. I can’t lose you too. You have to understand! Please! I know it seems like an awful thing for me to do but it was for your protection.” 

“How was removing me from power beneficial? You’ve gone off the deep end and you’ve been doing too many risky things lately, Dream. You’re the reason why we’re at war again. You’re the reason why all of this is happening again. Maybe if you listened to the rest of us…” George started back into the blank unblinking mask. 

Dream turned to Sapnap. 

“Sapnap, please. You of all people should understand. Everything I’ve done is to protect you. Tommy was exiled because he was dangerous and because he couldn’t follow the rules. He does nothing but spread chaos and it was the only option I had left.” 

“That doesn’t give you the right to act like this. You’re not alone anymore, we’re here to help you. But all you’ve been doing is acting like a reckless idiot and waging wars for no reason. I thought we were a team!” Sapnap pushed away Dream’s hands, jabbing his index finger into Dream’s armored chest. 

“We were always here for you, Dream. But it looks like you never realized that. We were patient and never pushed you.” Sapnap scoffed, “We never should have joined you. It was a mistake. Nothing that we’re doing is changing anything.” 

George picked up his knapsack. “We’re leaving, Dream. You can’t change our decision. Quackity already has an area ready for us in Mexican L’Manberg.” 

Dream clenches his fists as he tried to stay calm and begins slowing his sharp breaths. 

“Fine. You’ll find out soon anyways, it’ll all be over soon.” He turned his back on them and walked back the way he entered from, returning to his empty underground base, with no friends at his side and no spirits watching over him. 

_ What did I do wrong? _

Everything that Dream did was for the better for the kingdom. After what the kings and emperors of the past did to him, he couldn’t let wars with the much larger distant kingdoms begin. Dream froze, his hand missing the latch that released his left boot. He hadn’t thought about his past in years. What had it been, hundreds of years now? He couldn’t even keep track now, it’s been so long and he’s lived dozens of different lives and histories. 

Memories aren’t dissimilar to spiderwebs, spindly little creations that spin off into different directions and always leading back to a central point. You could try your best to rid yourselves of memories but it was pointless, being trapped in the endless loop of living and unliving.    
  
He gritted his teeth and finally unlatched the last of his armor, feeling vulnerable for the first time in days. It wasn’t too often anymore that he would go out in public with only a hoodie and loose pants and faded boots anymore. As Admin, he was expected to always be careful and safe against any assassins who would be willing to steal one of his three lives. Or at least that was the excuse the Council would give anyone who could properly die. 

_ Maybe I should have stayed in the water, _ Dream thought bitterly. The constant cycling of drowning and reviving for decades broke his mind. It took the destruction of a village for him to even attempt peace. 

The king of a long dead ancient kingdom had captured him in battle, away from his mothers. He was young and naive then, always too confident in his ability to kill. After all, how could he lose if he wasn’t able to die? He had been blessed (or cursed, depending on who you were) by the gods with immortality. This particular king was one that was bloodthirsty, always looking to conquer the close lands and enslave the helpless people. He and his mothers wanted to cut down against them, first attacking storage carts and their homes, eventually moving up to ambushing them and engaging in melee combat. 

The king had saw him come back from the dead, pulling a poisoned and barbed arrow out of his neck and slay the archers who attempted to kill him. It took nearly 25 men to disarm and apprehend him, with nearly half of the men being killed before even killing him. 

_ You’re a witch. _ The king had spit at him. All Dream could do was laugh and spit out the blood in his mouth. His mothers had trained him well after all, both of them being unkillables as well. He stared mockingly at the king.  _ What are you going to do, kill me?  _ He had confidence that no matter what the king would do, there was nothing that could break him. His mothers even prepared him for cases of torture, but only in extreme cases. They always told him to avoid capture whenever possible since the rest of the world wouldn’t understand. 

“They’d kill to know how we live, Clay.” The long haired woman had said while preparing a stew. Her short haired wife nodded, patting him on the head. “Listen, no matter what, you have to avoid capture. You’re still young which means that you’re an idiot. But no matter what, always stay away from nobles and royalty. They’re the power hungry ones. They’re the ones who are heartless bastards. Now eat up,” she said, passing him a hand-carved bowl. All he could do was look up at them and nod. 

The king thought he was a witch. So he tried to burn him at the stake, dressing him in old white linens and coating his long hair and arms with animal fat. When he woke up, the townspeople were left staring at shock at this man who had regrown all of his skin in moments. The king didn’t enjoy that, throwing him in a small, feces-lined room at the bottom of the basement of the lord’s castle. 

He spent weeks without food, chained up against the wall, regretting his decision to not rip his way out of the initial capture or avoid that battle altogether. He was sure that his mothers would be looking for him though, they would never abandon one of their kind. After a while, he lost track of time, counting the flies that hovered near him and the old musty bricks that lined his new home. Sometimes the guards would bring him to his next execution, which would always fail. On one of the days that he was finding images in the molding wood ceiling above him, the king and his guards came in. 

Clay squinted, it being the first time he saw pure sunlight for months. The moment was short-lived when two of the guards unshackled him and grabbed his arms and dragged him outside. He saw the large Iron Maiden in front of him, and began to struggle. 

“No! NO! Let me go! Please-” He sobbed, trying to get away from the hollow steel trap. 

“If we can’t kill you, then we can let God judge your soul and decide your fate.” The king had said, before locking the Iron Maiden and having blacksmiths solder the opening closed. 

He had screamed the entire time they wheeled him to the boat. He tried to bargain with the sailors, who ignored him. He sobbed as they began to push him off of the edge. He never stopped screaming after he hit the water. 

Feeling your lungs fill up with water and nearly dying could drive a man mad. That is what makes waterboarding such an effective torture method. Unfortunately for Clay, there was no escape for him, being forced to endure the loss of breath, the choking pain in his chest, the dream state between drowning and death, and the silence of death over and over. He would drown and wake up, trying to scream for help and force his way out of the iron casket, but always dying before anyone helped him. 

His mothers never came for him. 

  
  



End file.
